


Play Fair

by moon_hotel



Category: Kaiji
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2011-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hotel/pseuds/moon_hotel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andou and Furuhata's luck runs out and they're sent to the underground. After causing a scene during work, Furuhata is transferred to C Team. Foreman Ohtsuki would love to bleed him dry, if only some pesky thing inside him didn't keep getting in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Fair

“Get off me!”

“Andou—”

“I said  _get off!”_

There was a dull crunching sound as someone was thrown back into the gravel. The workers—mostly D Team, but a few others besides—turned to look, and quickly began to crowd around the two men. Andou was stubbornly jamming his shovel into the dirt, trying to ignore the man behind him.

“Andou,” Furuhata whimpered. His face was sweaty and flushed, and he looked as if he were on the verge of tears. He pushed himself up and tried to crawl over. “A-Andou, come on—”

All of a sudden Andou reached back and grabbed Furuhata’s head in his hand. He was portly, but a few weeks of working in the underground had hardened up his muscles. He wrenched Furuhata to the side, and the other man yelped as he screwed his eyes tight. “Shut up!” Andou growled, and pushed him back. “You’re making a scene! Everyone’s going to think I’m a weakling if I hang out with you!”

Furuhata pressed the side of his arm to his mouth, obviously trying to hold back tears, as Andou went on. “You’re nothing but a crybaby!” he spat, giving Furuhata’s shoulder a kick with his boot. Some of the other men chuckled, and Furuhata curled into a tight, nervous ball. “You’ve never done anything for yourself! I’m sick of you clinging onto me! The only reason you even kicked that guy to the curb is because I did it first, you pussy!”

“Hey, what are you doing? Cut that out!”

Ohtsuki turned. The D Team foreman had pushed through the crowd and was trying to break them up, but he was smaller than Andou and couldn’t do it by himself. Ohtsuki followed him a second later, putting on his most sincere expression of concern. “Break it up, come on!” he scolded, pulling Andou away. “What’s going on over here?”

Furuhata was cowering with his hands over his head, and Andou had nothing else to say. The foremen broke up the crowd and waved them away. “That Andou’s a real troublemaker, and he doesn’t work that hard, either.” The D Team foreman groaned, watching as Furuhata dejectedly dragged himself to another part of the underground. “Furuhata’s not much better, but at least he’s quiet. Andou’s been sniping at him all week.” 

“Hmm.” Ohtsuki chewed on this. “Well, I could use another guy…”

And so Furuhata was quietly transferred over to C Team. Ohtsuki chose not to make an announcement about it: Furuhata was enough of a target already, with his gangly appearance and his nervous eyes. ”I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?” was the first thing he said when he came into the barracks.

“Of course not,” Ohtsuki said good-naturedly, giving him his warmest smile and patting him on the shoulder. “After that scene the other day, I talked to your foreman. We decided it would be better for you to be in a different division. Best to bury those bad memories as soon as possible, don’t you think?”

Furuhata nodded and smiled back, and his face was lit up with the infinite faith that only naïvete can bring. Ohtsuki chuckled inwardly. He must have looked like a shining angel to this poor, beaten-down guy. The sob stories of the miners tended to run together after a while, but this one intrigued him: what would give him the courage to kick  _anyone_ to the curb?

The beer had barely hit Furuhata’s lips before he was babbling out the entire thing, Ohtsuki nodding him on the entire time. He’d taken out a huge loan he knew he couldn’t possibly pay back, made one of his coworkers sign for it, and then—here came the kicker—after his buddy had bent over backwards to save him and Andou on the Espoir, they’d both left him in the back room to rot. Ohtsuki was impressed, secretly. Just from his looks, he hadn’t expected Furuhata to have it in him. 

Apparently Furuhata hadn’t either, because as the story went on, he became paler and paler, and choked harder and harder, until—in the corner of the barracks, over a tiny can of watered-down beer—he cried, a gloved hand over his mouth, his body shaking with every almost-quiet sob. Ohtsuki kept his large hand on his shoulder, practically cooing at him. “There, there,” he said. “We all make mistakes.”

“I’m such an awful person,” Furuhata kept saying. “I’m such an awful person.” 

 

 

 

Furuhata was predictable in all the ways Ohtsuki loved. He worked hard and played hard. He pushed himself to burn through his work as soon as he could, then drowned his sorrows in beer and chips after-hours. He didn’t focus on the one-day vacation, the better dinners, any of those other perks. He was focused entirely on the short-term, like most of the other men. It wasn’t a bad way to live, to be honest, but pushing himself during work was a red flag.

“You shouldn’t work so hard,” Ohtsuki said one night. Furuhata gave him a quizzical look. “I normally wouldn’t say that,” he chuckled, “but our medical care isn’t the best down here. You have to take care of yourself, Furuhata.”

“I know,” he replied, and smiled. “I guess I just get caught up in stuff sometimes. Thanks, chief. I’ll try not to push myself so much.” 

He didn’t say it aloud, but Ohtsuki could see it in his face:  _This is my punishment,_ it said.  _This place is what I deserve._ It was a look that he saw sometimes, but not very often, and never with such sincerity. Ohtsuki’s large fist tightened around his own can of beer, buckling it inwards with a  _crrrkk_  as a shudder rolled through his body. 

Furuhata’s eyes flickered towards the can, and he backpedaled immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, bowing towards him. “I-I’m really sorry, chief. Thank you so much for your concern! I promise I’ll take it easy!”

“No, no,” Ohtsuki fumbled, putting his hand back on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.” And then, as if to show how little it mattered, he downed the rest of his drink.

 

 

 

Ohtsuki considered himself, at the best of times, to be a cynic. It didn’t come to him naturally: he had to hone it, sharpen it, train it into himself, and the best he had ever managed was to take his natural concern for other people and twist it into something he could use to his profit.  _Become Teiai,_ he told himself, the day he made foreman.  _Don’t do anything good. If you absolutely have to, then at least do it for a shitty reason._

But Furuhata was getting to him. That sad sack was making his heart beat again, and Ohtsuki absolutely loathed himself for it. 

Nothing really made Furuhata any different, when it came down to it. There were plenty of debtors who threw themselves away, willingly working themselves to death, and Ohtsuki could discern them the instant they came into the underground. It wasn’t that Furuhata was any younger than them, or carried any more potential, or (hah!) deserved it any less than they did. If anything, he deserved it  _more._

Maybe that was it—most of the debtors were here just on the basis of being ignorant or lazy. Furuhata, though, had sinned in a much worse way, and it was obvious that he was thinking about it every time he jammed his shovel into the hard, cold ground. 

But he was definitely reining it in, Ohtsuki reflected, as he watched him work a few weeks later. Furuhata had gone jogging toward the brink of death, and Ohtsuki, ever the Buddha figure, had gently pulled him back. If everyone did one truly good deed in his life, then for him, perhaps it’d been that. The thought reassured him: not so much the idea that he may have saved someone’s life, but the idea that, if he just exercised some self-control, his good deeds would stop right there. 

“I’m really glad to see it,” Ohtsuki said, and added: “I mean, about you not pushing yourself. Good job.”

“Thanks, sir. I’ve really been trying.” Furuhata wiped off his forehead with the towel around his neck. “I’m thinking I’ll just pace myself. I didn’t take out ten million yen, I only had about six or seven,” he said, “so I don’t think it’s the full fifteen years, right?”

“No,” Ohtsuki said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the din. “It’s fifteen years per ten million, so…six or seven, let’s say seven…you might only be in for ten. Not too bad,” he said, “if you can make it.” 

“Make it?” Furuhata echoed, leaning over his shovel as he cleared out a corner of what was probably going to be a foundation for a shopping mall. With that done, they moved clockwise to the next, leaving the other workers to fill it in with concrete. “Do you…do you think I’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ohtsuki said loudly. “Sure.” 

He looked around, then back down to his clipboard, marking their work on the diagram of the underground. This section was at the far end of the complex, secluded from the rest of the other teams. He decided to change the subject a little. “After all, you’ve bulked up pretty nicely since you came down here, Furuhata.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Furuhata said brightly, bringing up an arm and flexing. He was thin and sinewy, but he  _had_ hardened up a little. “You really think so? I was always a wimp in high school.”

 _Of course,_ Ohtsuki quipped to himself, but what came out of his mouth was a rather diplomatic “I think that’s the case with a lot of guys here.”

“Haha, yeah.” There was a pause as Furuhata worked a little more. Ohtsuki cocked his head, looking over him. He could turn this into flirtation easily,  _really_ easily, and he had the feeling the other man would be pretty receptive to it. Especially if, as he suspected, Furuhata had a type. The only question was whether or not it was a good idea.

He eyed Furuhata as his thick fingers played with the pen in his hand. He was good-looking, but more than that, it had the delicious tinge of manipulation to it: get in good with the poor, beaten-down new guy, then get him into the foreman’s bed. What could be more Teiai than that?

“Definitely improving,” he murmured, just barely loud enough to be heard. “I’d even say you’re getting a little bit of a six-pack there, Furuhata.”

“Huh? Really?” Furuhata blinked and straightened up, grinning as he slid a gloved hand under his tank top to feel his muscles. “You think so?”

“I sure do.” 

Furuhata’s grin widened and one of his teeth bit into his bottom lip. It was sheepish, and to anyone else it probably would have seemed that way, but he stared Ohtsuki straight in the eye with a hungry look. “Yeah, chief…?” His hand didn’t move an inch. 

 _Son of a bitch,_ Ohtsuki thought, feeling greed pull his eyes to the man’s stomach.  _He had the same idea._  He had a split-second vision of himself leading Furuhata into some little alcove in the rock wall, running his hands over his hard, dirt-stained body, and with a great effort, he pulled himself back. You could get fired for that. Nobody cared what happened in the barracks, but on Teiai company time? You were screwed.

He chuckled coolly and bowed his head down over the clipboard. “Not now,” he said. “Come see me later tonight.”

 

 

 

“Is this really okay?” Furuhata asked, standing beside the futon. “What about those other two guys?”

“They’ll be fine. Now get over here,” Ohtsuki said, pulling Furuhata down into his broad lap. “Teasing your foreman like that today,” he tut-tutted, tugging the other man’s shirt up over his outstretched arms. “You could have gotten me fired, you know that?”

“Sorry, chief,” Furuhata mumbled. He was already starting to flush pink across his face and down his chest, and his boss could barely keep from licking his lips. “I-I’m not usually like that, I think. I don’t usually—”

“I’m just teasing you,” Ohtsuki said, wrapping his large hands around his ribs and sliding them up and down. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’ve seen  _everything_ down here,” he said. “Besides, I liked it.”

“Yeah? You, you liked it?” Furuhata stammered, pushing his chest out against the other man’s hands. “I, uh, I liked it too. You watching me like that.” His voice dipped into a low groan as Ohtsuki’s thumbs rolled over his nipples, massaging them. “I hope I get put on clearing duty again.”

“Not for another week,” Ohtsuki replied, and he pressed forward, laying Furuhata down against the futon. “I can see it now. I’ll be your poor boss, just trying to do my work while you keep flirting with me, huh? Trying to make me break down and fuck you right there?”

“Please,” Furuhata groaned again, tilting his head back. He pushed himself up on his elbows a little as Ohtsuki hooked his fingers inside his pants and pulled them smoothly down. He wasn’t that thick, but he was long and already starting to stiffen up nicely. “I-I don’t care where you do it. In the work area or the showers or what.”

“The showers? You been thinking of that too?” Ohtsuki said slyly, leaning over him. “You were right—you  _are_ awful. Here. Help me with this.”

Furuhata quickly undid the buttons of his work uniform, sliding it off, and pulled up the tight, dark T-shirt Ohtsuki was wearing underneath. He let out a breath as his hands slid over Ohtsuki’s paunch and up his body, and the other man had to practically hold back a laugh. “You really like big guys, don’t you?” he chuckled, grabbing Furuhata’s hands and placing them squarely on his chest. “Right there, that’s it.”

Furuhata flushed bright red. “Y-yeah,” he admitted, massaging him in circles, and Ohtsuki busied himself with tugging down his pants. “You can tell, huh?”

“I had a hunch. Did you fool around with that other guy, too? The one who tore into you a few weeks ago?”

“Andou?” Furuhata said, grimacing. “Y-yeah, just a couple times. He was way more of a jerk than you, though, so it was never any good.” He slid a hand around Ohtsuki’s side, pulling him closer, and pressed his open lips to his chest with a moan. “I hope I’m good at this,” he muttered, and Ohtsuki shuddered at the flicking of his lips and tongue. “I haven’t done a whole lot before.”

“You’ll be fine,” he groaned, and he bucked his hips up a little, rubbing himself against the smooth skin of Furuhata’s stomach.  _“_ So you—oh  _christ,_ bite down again—g-good—you, uh, you think I’m not a jerk, huh?”

“No way,” Furuhata said. Ohtsuki looked down to see Furuhata’s face halfway hidden by his body, but he could tell the man was beaming. “You’ve been nothing but great to me since I got here. This’s the least I can do for you, boss!”

Ohtsuki’s face went through what must have been a million different expressions, but Furuhata was too busy to notice any of them.  _That’s not it!_ he wanted to scream.  _I’m supposed to be taking advantage of you! You’re not supposed to be doing me a favor, you dumbass!_

“Wow, you’re huge,” came a murmur from under him, and Ohtsuki’s train of thought disappeared as he felt Furuhata’s tongue flick lightly around his head. He dissolved into a long moan, and he reached a hand down to steady his subordinate as he began to buck slowly against his mouth. “Ummh, chief…”

“You’re crazy,” Ohtsuki groaned, and he tightened his fingers a little in Furuhata’s blonde hair as he pushed in deeper. He did nothing but moan, opening his lips wider around the other man. “I’m not tough enough on you,” he rasped, pulling his hips back and sliding in again. “Okay, okay. Lie back.”

Furuhata laid back again and Ohtsuki moved between his legs. “Are you—” Furuhata licked his lips, watching him, and Ohtsuki reached a hand down to squeeze himself. “—are you gonna, uh…”

“Fuck you? Of course,” Ohtsuki chuckled, letting a little darkness creep into his laugh. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”  _That’ll teach you,_ he thought.  _That’s what you get when you play with me, you little…_

“Actually, I had an idea,” Furuhata ventured. “Would you—would you rub on me?” He reached down to curve a hand around himself, pumping a little. “Rub it against me. Please?” 

Ohtsuki’s eyes widened. Another vision flashed in his brain, this time of Furuhata’s head back, moaning over and over as Ohtsuki gripped themselves together, shooting with a long, rough groan onto the skin of his stomach. “A-all right,” he said, his breath hitching as he pressed himself tight between Furuhata’s legs. 

“Thanks, chief,” Furuhata sighed. “It’s just like I said. You’re really a nice guy.” And his grin widened, and he flushed pink in the lamplight, and Ohtsuki figured that being nice wouldn’t be so bad, just for a little while.

 

 

 

“So where’s the payoff here?” Numakawa asked, jostling Ohtsuki out of the clouds. “You make friends with him, you sleep with him—then what? By the way, it’s your turn.”

“Payoff?” Ohtsuki repeated, grabbing the dice. “What’s your point?”

“My  _point_ is that you usually don’t do this stuff without a good reason. Does he have something on one of the other foremen? Or maybe on that guy who beat him up?”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to have a point,” Isawa said. “Maybe the boss is doing it to mess around with the guy. Maybe he’s just really good in bed. Does it matter?”

“I meant…” The foreman cleared his throat as he rattled the dice in his hand. “What’s the point for the game _._ Quit messing around.”

“Oh, sorry. I got a four,” Numakawa said, “and I’m dealer.”

The dice dropped slowly into the bowl, ricocheting off of the edges with a clear sound.  _The payoff, huh?_ Ohtsuki thought, the idea resounding in his head. 

All three of the men craned over the bowl, watching as the dice inside slowly spun to a halt. ”Four-five-six!” Ohtsuki cheered. “Looks like I got lucky, boys!”

“Like hell!” Numakawa spat. He leaned over and pulled them out of the bowl, then let out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t believe it…these are the normal dice.”

“That’s bullshit!” Isawa exclaimed. “You got a four-five-six playing fair?”

“What’s the matter, Isawa?” Ohtsuki asked, a grin spreading across his face. “Nothing wrong with playing fair.”


End file.
